


in the palm of your hand

by comefeedtherainn



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alcoholism, Coming of Age, Depression, F/F, F/M, Gen, IT but make it michigan, IT but make it the 2000's, M/M, Richie Tozier is Gay, all chapter titles are fall out boy lyrics because i do what i want, allusions to self harm, bg ben/omc, bg bevkay, bg hanbrough, bg stanpat, brief bev/richie, it just takes him a while to figure that out, no underage nsfw, substance use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28991925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comefeedtherainn/pseuds/comefeedtherainn
Summary: Lake Superior is freezing, always, even in the summer. Richie likes the challenge, running into the water before he can chicken out and seeing how long he can stay neck-deep until his lips turn blue and he has to shiver in a towel with Spiderman on it to recover. He doesn't even like Spiderman, but boys are supposed to like Spiderman, so he has a Spiderman beach towel. Teeth chattering he looks out to the horizon, the freezing lake choppy and reflecting the hazy dark blue sky overhead. Far in the distance, a storm brews, and Richie wants to run in it's direction. He thinks it might be fun to be struck by lightning. Just to see how it feels.[Richie Tozier comes of age. It's a fucking mess.]
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	in the palm of your hand

**age 15**

* * *

"I'm telling you, dude it's the best fucking game ever made."

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious!"

"That guy looks like a potato."

"Fuck you, Stan, these are revolutionary graphics!"

"What's it called again? Obliviate? What does that even mean?"

"First of all," Richie huffs, his eyes on the TV and his fingers flying over multi-colored buttons, "that's from fucking Harry Potter, so fuck you for making me endure that. Second, it's Oblivion. Don't set foot in my house again until you learn how to read, Uris."

Stan just rolls his eyes, going back to scrolling through Youtube on Richie's family computer. The desk is settled in the corner of the den, next to the window, and has a stupid-comfy spinning desk chair that Stan always commandeers. 

"Don't start talking shit about Harry Potter again, I will end your life," declares Eddie, nestled into the corner of the couch with a double chin and a Gameboy in his hands. "If _you_ knew how to read you wouldn't have such shitty opinions."

"I don't think that's how opinions work, Spaghetti," Richie retorts, grinning at the TV - can't tear his eyes away or this fucking draugr swarm will take him out and he is _over_ this dungeon. "Also, Harry Potter is garbage and Mike agrees with me."

"I never said garbage!" Mike pipes up, putting up his hands. "I said it wasn't my thing."

"AKA, garbage."

Richie grunts as a socked foot nudges the back of his head, sending his glasses down the bridge of his nose. He jerks his head back to adjust them hands-free. He only gets them about haflway and has to finish wipng out the enemies with his head tilted back so he can see. In his fourteen years of life, his prescription hasn't changed, so he could probably do with getting contacts, but...well. He likes to think the glasses are part of his image.

"Not cool, Eds."

"Stop calling me Eds," Eddie snips. 

"You like Spaghetti better?"

"I like _Eddie_ , you fucknut."

"Awww, I like you too," Richie simpers, craning his neck to make kissy faces at him now that the ambush has been defeated and he can spare the time. He snickers when a palm mashes into his face, knocking his glasses askew. "Owww, glasses!"

"Sorry," Eddie says immediately, fixing them. His fingers brush the tip of Richie's ear, and they're really soft, so Richie pinches the inside of his elbow. "Ow! Fuck off, Richie!"

Richie doesn't apologize, instead tossing aside the Xbox controller and stretching his arms over his head. "Nose Goes for ordering pizza."

After Richie, Eddie is always the fastest to put his finger to the tip of his nose - he fucking hates doing most tasks required of the loser of Nose Goes, so he's really honed his reaction time. Stan is next, then Mike. Bev and Ben come back from getting drinks from the garage at the exact right time, taking a second to process what's happening before scrambling to touch their noses, as well. Bill is on their heels and ultimately winds up the loser. He throws his hands up indignantly.

"You can't call N-Nose Goes when everyone's not in the r-room!"

"Just did, motherfucker," Richie crows. "And that means you get to order the pizza!"

Bill grumbles, turning the laptop away from Stan amidst protests and grumpily pulling up the delivery site. 

"I'll do it, if you don't want to," Ben says charitably, and Richie wrinkles up his nose at him. 

"Don't forsake the rules of Nose Goes, man, come on. Have some fucking decency."

While Bill orders their pizza, Ben and Bev come to settle back down in their spots - Ben in the bean bag that's almost flat to the ground, tie dye with creepy smiley faces on it, and Bev in the "gaming chair," which is really just a weird c-shaped contraption that encourages bad posture and squeaks when your ass moves. Richie's only letting her have it because he's way more into the butterfly chair, these days.

"Oh, good," Bev says with a smirk, lounging in the chair and letting it rock her backward. "Are we done watching Richie suck at video games?"

"Fuck off, Marsh," Richie snorts, reaching to mess with her hair and yelping when she grabs his wrist. "Nooo, don't break me, I'm sensitive."

"Find a decent movie for us to watch and I'll consider it."

Bill comes to sit, as well, taking his usual place next to the coffee table. "Pizza's ordered. Five bucks each."

Everyone digs into their pockets, putting together singles and quarters and whatever else they can find of leftover allowance money or excess movie funds they had neglected to return to their parents. Eddie squirms a bit in his seat, his brows pulled together.

"Uh, sorry guys, I just won't have any," he says awkwardly. "My mom wouldn't give me money when I told her what it was for. She says I'm allergic to gluten."

"Are you allergic to gluten?" Bev asks, blinking at him.

"No. It's fine," Eddie insists, waving her off. 'I'm not even that hungry."

"Bullshit, shut up," Richie huffs, pulling out another five and slapping it in Bill's hand.

"Rich-"

"It's five bucks. Don't worry about it."

Eddie huffs, the tips of his ears turning red. "...thanks."

"Sure."

The pizza takes forever, because everything does in the middle of BFE Michigan, and once it arrives they eat it sprawled out around the den watching some bullshit movie that Richie picked because the cover looked cool. He sits next to Eddie, because he always does, and when they've finished their pizza (Eddie didn't even finish his slice before setting it aside, but Richie decides he's picked on him enough for one day and lets it go) he finds it very distracting how Eddie's elbow is brushing his. It makes his heart race when Eddie curls his legs up underneath himself like a cat, and leans on Richie's arm and practically nuzzles his shoulder, brown eyes on the television. He's wearing a crewneck sweatshirt, and it's really soft against Richie's skin and smells like lavender scented detergent, and for some reason that makes him want to wrap his arms around him and pull him closer. Eddie's so small, he'd be so easy to hold. Richie's long arms could probably wrap around him twice, he figures.

That evening, after everyone has gone home, Richie stands in front of his floor length mirror, grimy with fingerprints he never bothers to clean, and stares at himself nearly nose to nose with his own reflection. He's just gotten out of the shower and put on his pajamas, his hair wet and piecey and his face still a little red from the hot water. He opens and closes his mouth several times, but his throat keeps closing up, he keeps choking on the words, but if he's going to say them to anyone he's going to have to say them to himself first.

"I..."

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, counts to ten, opens them again.

"I like boys," he says, in a whisper, his voice shaking and his heart leaping into his throat and his stomach lurching but he smiles, because _finally_. "I like boys. I'm..." He thinks about saying the word, any word, a label he isn't sure about, then closes his mouth again. "I like boys," he says again, because at least that much is certain. At least that much makes sense. It's about the only thing that does, these days.

* * *

Richie discovers the word "bisexual" reading Elder Scrolls fanfiction. He frowns a bit and goes straight to Google, and that's how he loses a good chunk of a Tuesday afternoon after school to a gay as hell rabbit hole. He comes out of it, though, feeling like something has clicked into place. He knew he liked boys, he'd said as much to himself a week or two ago in the mirror, but he also knew he liked girls because...well, of course he did. That wasn't ever in question. But now he has this word, and it makes some things make sense, and he actually breathes a sigh of relief as he closes the family laptop, though he remembers to put it on sleep mode because last time his mom went off about how he was going to melt the battery or some shit. 

He's bisexual. Cool. Now he just needs to tell someone, other than himself.

Because that's what gay people do, right? They come out. So he figures, _I should probably do that as soon as possible to get it out of the way, and I should do it with the person who I know will like me no matter what - Eddie Kaspbrak_. It's not that he doesn't trust the rest of the Losers, but Eddie is special. Eddie gets him on a level that he's not sure he'll ever find with another person. He'll be a good test run, for his big gay speech declaring his love for dudes. Or well, all people. Dudes and girls. Both of them at once. Man, he never even knew that was a thing!

The weekend finds the seven of them at Ben's house, because he's the only one with parents chill enough to let a small mob of kids hang out all the time. Richie's parents will endure it once or twice a month, but that's about it. Ben's also got a kickass fire pit, his house located on about fourteen acres of pure grass and settled in the shade of a small forest. Richie's always the one that has to help set the logs on fire, because he's a fucking pyro and fire is cool as shit so of course he knows how to do it. He's proud as he watches the flames roaring, his cheeks burning a bit from the strength of it. It pops occassionally, stray embers fluttering out and landing on the ground where they snuff out in the dirt. At some point he gets too hot, and rocks to his feet, jogging across the yard to the tree he always likes to climb - it's practically made for it, the branches so perfectly aligned that he's sure God himself wants him to climb this fucking tree every time he comes over. Feeling cooled off already, the sun setting and chilling the air and casting Ben's yard in a pale blue light, Richie hikes up his leg and plants his foot in the crux of the trunk. He hauls himself up, mostly using his leg strength, and shimmies up a couple of branches until he reaches the one that's good for lounging. From his vantage point, he can watch the sun slowly sinking down behind the treeline while still listening to his friends' chatter behind him.

Footsteps approach after a few minutes, and he peers over his shoulder to find Eddie, hands in the black hoodie that's way too big for him and "borrowed" from Richie. The sleeves hang over his hands and Richie likes how his fingertips poke out when his arms are at his sides. Eddie cranes his head back, squinting up at him.

"Hey," he says. "Can I come up?"

"Yeah, there's room."

Eddie climbs to meet him, though it takes him a few moments to get psyched up. Richie just waits patiently. Eddie's big "thing" over the summer before starting high school was to do some of the things he'd always been scared of, and one of those things was to climb a tree. He's petrified of heights, and scraping his knee or elbow and getting some kind of infection, and getting bit by a poisonous spider or possibly touching poison ivy accidentally, so when Richie agreed to help him conquer that particular fear he'd picked a nice, easy tree. It's a short birch, not imposing or liable to give Eds vertigo from the height and make him fall and crack his head open. He reaches to help Eddie on the last foot or so, hauling him up onto a sturdy branch just below the one he's perched on. The tree parts in a Y-shape toward the middle, which means they can sit facing each other with their backs resting up against sturdier bits of the trunk.

"It was too hot over there," says Eddie, looking out at the sunset. Richie doesn't find it so interesting anymore, looking at him instead. "Plus Bev started fucking with the logs and I don't wanna be a part of it when someone's hair catches on fire."

Richie snorts, rolling his eyes at him. "No one's hair is gonna catch on fire, that doesn't happen."

"Does too. Anything can happen."

"Whatever, Spaghetti."

It's quiet between them for a bit, and Richie takes a deep breath, picking at a bit of bark with his fingernail and he mulls over what he wants to say.

"Hey, so. I wanna tell you something."

Eddie fixes him with a wary look. "What is it?"

Richie snorts indignantly. "The fuck is that face for?"

"I'm just preparing myself."

"Fuck you. No, it's. Uh, so." Richie takes another breath. "I like guys."

Edide blinks at him, hard. "Like....like like guys?"

"Yeah. Well, and girls. But the guys thing is new."

"Oh."

Richie stares at him expectantly. "Is that it? Just oh?"

Eddie's face turns pink. "No. Sorry. Just, uh. It's funny."

"Funny?" Richie asks, his heart sinking, and Eddie's eyes widen as he shakes his hands like he's doing a jazz number.

"No, no! Not funny. Just - me too."

"You...too?"

"Yeah, like, I like guys, too, also. Just guys, I think, though. Probably."

"Oh," Richie says this time, his eyebrows raising and staying there. "I didn't know that."

"Well, no shit you didn't know that, I haven't told anyone," Eddie huffs, pulling his hood up over his head. His mom would flip if she knew he had it - hoods were choking hazards - which was why Richie had had to gift it to him. He likes seeing Eds in his clothes, he realizes. Interesting. "Have you told anyone?"

"No one but you," Richie says. "Wanted to tell someone safe, first."

Eddie's expression falls into something funny, almost soft. "I'm safe?"

Richie feels his ears burning and doesn't look at him. "I guess."

More quiet. Richie wants to think over what's been said, but his mind and heart are honestly running about a hundred miles per hour. Adrenaline, he knows, and it's from a strange mix of excitement, happiness, and fear that has him feeling a little bit sick. He kind of likes it, though.

"Hey. Can I tell you something else?"

Richie glances at Eddie sideways. "Sure."

Eddie's chewing on the inside of his lip. "I like, kind of have a crush on you."

It's several moments before Richie is capable of forming a sentence. "What, me?"

Eddie glares at him, cheeks red again. "Yeah, you. Idiot."

"Oh. Um. Cool. I...I kind of have a crush on you, too."

"Cool."

Richie looks away again, now actively peeling bark away from the tree and leaving green and stark white flesh behind. "Do you wanna like, go out with me?"

"Go out where?"

"No, like, be boyfriends."

"Oh." Eddie's quiet for a long time. "We can't tell my mom."

Richie nods in emphatic agreement. "No problem, dude, I like living. Don't really wanna be axe murdered by Sonia, as much as it would turn me on."

"Fuck you," Eddie scoffs, kicking his shin. "...then, yeah. Okay."

Richie says something, he's sure, but he's forgotten how to breathe properly and he thinks he might be floating up to be amongst the clouds. He can't stop grinning and laughing randomly, and then Eddie starts snickering with him, until they're both giggling their dicks off and nearly falling out of the tree. Richie thinks that Eddie's laugh is the best thing he's ever heard. It's the only big thing about him, coming from his stomach and echoing around them and between Richie's ears. He can't stop smiling as he listens, listens and thinks _that's my boyfriend laughing. My boyfriend, Eddie. I made my boyfriend, Eddie, laugh like that._

He yanks Eddie's hood down over his eyes, grinning as he swears at him.

* * *

The sun is baking him to a crisp overhead, turning the tip of his nose and the edges of his shoulders bright red. Richie doesn't complain, though, not when he'd successfully managed to weasel some extra chores (and, subsequently, cash) from Wentworth before he'd left for work. He wants to take Eddie to the movies, and he's still on an allowance moratorium, so Richie's gonna have to pay for both tickets and their snacks. He follows his mother around the garden, now, his hands inside of gardening gloves a bit too big for him. They rub on his fingertips and make them sore when he pulls weeds, but it's not the worst job ever. He gets to listen to his iPod and think about Eddie while jamming to Fall Out Boy, so things could be way worse. Speaking of which -

"Hey, Mags."

Maggie glances over her shoulder at him, giving him a dry look even as the corner of her mouth quirks. "Did you mean 'mom'?"

"Right, that's what I said," he grins, laughing at her exasperated head shake. "I uh, wanted to tell you something."

"Okay."

"I think I'm bisexual."

Maggie stops in her tracks, turning to look at him. She blinks a few times, so rapidly Richie almost doesn't see it.

"You think what?"

"I think I'm bisexual," Richie says again with a smile. "It means that you like boys and girls at the same time. I heard about it the other day."

"Oh." Maggie frowns, deeply, looking at him like she's...concerned. Richie's smile falls a bit. "Okay, Richard. Just...just don't act on it, okay?"

"Don't act on it?"

"Right. Just don't act on it, and we'll figure it out."

Richie swallows as Maggie turns right back around and continues on with her work like he hadn't said a thing. His hands are shaking a little, and he tries to decide if that went bad or good. He honestly hadn't thought much of it when he decided he wanted to tell her. She's his mom, right? She wouldn't care what he did, she'd still support him and love him and be happy for him. And while she isn't angry, she...is not happy, either. She looks almost sad. Like he's done something to hurt her, or scare her.

He puts down the garden tools and power walks inside mumbling 'water,' before throwing up in the half bath toilet and vowing to never, ever bring up the Liking Boys thing ever again in his entire life.

* * *

One day, Richie decides to hold Eddie's hand in the hallway at school. As with many of his decisions, he makes it without much thought other than that he wants to do it. Eddie doesn't argue, though he looks a bit like a deer in headlights, so Richie holds onto his hand as he walks him to class. Eyes are on them at once, which he kind of expected but also didn't think would bey as scary as it was. When he'd come out to the Losers he'd mostly gotten congratulations, and when he and Eddie hold hands or snuggle up during movies or at bonfires the most shit they get is Bev telling them to get a room (whatever that means). They don't stare, or whisper, like what they are doing is something scandalous. The kids in the hallway do. Almost feels like they're an exhibit at the zoo. No one beats the shit out of them, though, so Richie supposes he should call it a win.

The only problem is, at first people thought it was a joke, and Richie realizes he probably shouldn't have made so many gay jokes in middle school. Then, when they find out it isn't a joke, he and Eddie are henceforth known as The Gay Kids. There have to be others, he's sure, but he only realizes after the handholding day that he and Eddie are the only ones who are "out" in the whole school. The idea makes Richie a little queasy, and he feels even more like he's doing something wrong, like he's breaking a rule that no one told him about. Why the hell does holding hands with Eddie in public give him the same uneasy rush that breaking curfew does? Even so, he likes Eddie so much, so much it makes him feel like his chest is going to burst into an explosion of glitter, and that is enough to get him through the weird looks, and the hiding from his parents. The latter is a bit easier to do, as long as he doesn't get too close to Eddie while anyone's parents are around or before his own parents have gone to bed, depending on where they're hanging out. Easier in practice, but it does hurt more. He doesn't like to lie, at least not to his family.

There is a night, and it's winter time, Christmas Break but in that strange limbo of time between Christmas Eve and New Year's where time seems fake and you're not quite sure what you should be doing. Richie's house is dark and quiet, his parents long asleep and the Losers all passed out in various positions around the den. The only light emenates from the TV, the volume on low and playing the credits of A Christmas Story, Richie's favorite holiday movie. The dad in it kind of reminds him of his own. Richie and Ralphie are only similar in their tendency to internally monologue and their glasses making their eyes look bigger than they actually are, but he still really likes the movie. Eddie is the only one still awake, sitting beside him and a thick, fuzzy blunket draped over both of their laps. Eddie gets cold easy, and Richie just likes to be close to him. Speaking of cold, Richie jumps a little as Eddie's freezing fingers brush against his arm.

"Jesus, you an icicle or what?" he whispers, not wanting to wake the others.

"I'm still cold," Eddie complains quietly, pulling the blanket further up so it's also covering his chest and neck. 

Richie reaches, taking Eddie's hands in his own without really thinking about it and wrapping them up in his palms. Eddie's always-freezing hands often turn bright red, even his palms - poor circulation, Eddie tells him - and it makes him uneasy, so he also brings them up to his face and breathes gently into the cocoon his palms have created. He continues until the skin feels suitably warmer, though he doesn't let go. He looks up, pausing when he sees Eddie is staring at him, and his cheeks are a little pink and he looks a little uncertain. Richie opens his mouth to ask him what's up, then Eddie is kissing him. His lips are pursed a little too tight, and he presses a little too hard so Richie can't really do much but let it happen, but it still makes his heart race and his fingertips tingle. He feels something in his chest bubbling, like he wants to giggle, though he resists the urge. Eddie pulls away, his whole face now a tomato to match his weird blood-challenged hands. 

"Sorry."

"It's okay," Richie croaks, then swallows so he sounds more manly. "You're my boyfriend. We can kiss."

"Right. I know."

"I wanna kiss you, I mean. Like, more. Not right now, if you don't want, but later. That would be cool."

The corner of Eddie's mouth twists into a smile, and he punches Richie's arm. "Shut up, trashmouth."

Richie grins, now almost too warm with the blanket.

* * *

Sonia Kaspbrak knows.

Richie's sure no one has told her, is doubly sure that Eddie hasn't told her, but she knows. He can see it in her beady eyes as she glares down at him when he comes to pick Eddie up to hang out after school. She looks him up and down with a distaste that's new. She's never really liked the Losers, and liked Richie least of all, but now there's this sneer to her upper lip that he swears wasn't there before, and it means she knows. Knows that he's been kissing her son, thinking about him when he goes to sleep at night, thinking about what a wedding looks like when it's two guys. Who wears the dress? He thinks he'd probably look pretty kickass in a dress. Could he wear it with combat boots...?

Anyway. Sonia Kaspbrak knows Richie's got big gay feelings for her precious baby boy, and now she wants him dead.

"Uh, can Eddie come hang out?" he asks, trying to peer around her into the house as he stands awkwardly on the porch. He can't really remember the last time he was inside. Eddie never invites them over, because....well.

"Eddie isn't feeling well," Sonia says stiffly. "He has to stay home today."

Richie blinks, wondering if that's true. "What's wrong with him?"

"He isn't feeling well," she reiterates vaguely. "Goodbye, Richie."

The door is closed before he can open his mouth again, and he huffs through his nose, digging out his phone as he descends the porch steps. He glances upward, to window on the top floor on the far right of the house - Eddie's room - and clacks out a text.

_r u sick_

_No._

_ok lol. sonia just told me u were_

_I'm not sick. But I can't hang out. Sorry._

_that's ok lol u good?_

_Yeah._

_....ok. talk to u tmrw spaghetti_

_Okay._

Richie frowns, putting his phone into the back of his jeans. He sticks his hands in his pockets and turns to head down to McDonalds or something so his trip isn't a total bust; it's only about a fifteen minute walk or so. A shuffling sound, like a window sliding open aggressively, and then -

" _Richie_!"

An Eddie Whisper-Yell if he ever heard one. He turns around, blinking up at Eddie leaning out of his bedroom window.

" _Come back!_ " he whisper-yells again. " _Or-wait! Wait up!_ "

Richie watches as Eddie Kaspbrak, the dude who's afraid of heights and won't go on a Ferris Wheel because of the safety hazards, climbs out of his fucking window and onto the roof of his house. Richie swears harshly, running as if he's going to catch his bony ass if he falls, craning his head back and squinting at him against the late afternoon sun. The roof is still a bit damp from early summer showers, which makes him even more nervous.

" _Eds!_ " he hisses. " _What the fuck?!_ "

" _Move_!" Eddie snips back, his arms straight out at his sides and his knees slightly bent for some reason as he inches down the slope of the roof. Luckily it's not the steep part, but the part that hangs over the deck, so if he goes slow he probably won't die. He reaches the edge and pauses, his eyes going a bit wide.

" _I'll catch you_!" Richie whisper-calls.

" _Fuck you!_ "

" _No, I will, come on!_ " Richie insists, holding out his arms. 

Eddie looks extremely uncertain about that, but he sets his mouth in that line that means he's about to do something against his better judgment. It's Richie's favorite look. He takes a few harsh breaths through his nose, nods to Richie, who nods back, and then leaps. Richie does catch him, as promised, although he crumples instantly and they both roll across the damp grass. He groans as quietly as he can, grimacing and laying starfished on his back. 

" _You fucking killed me! It's like catching a bag of knives_!" he hisses, blinking as Eddie is already on his feet and pulling on his hand.

" _Come on, before she sees!_ "

They take off running down the street a little bit damp, with grass stains and leaves in their hair, and Richie's grinning so hard he thinks his face will split. The suburb Eddie lives in is on a golf course, but like, a shitty one where the only real view is the Meijer off in the distance in one direction and the crappy, overpriced steakhouse in another. The houses all look the same, and Richie isn't sure how Eddie knows where he's going but he lets him lead, neither of them slowing until Eddie's house is out of sight. They pause to catch their breath, still laughing and grinning as they gasp. 

"You rebel, Spaghetti," Richie teases. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"I'm a fucking crazy person, I guess," Eddie declares, straightening up and looking around. "So uh, what do you wanna do?"

"Go to my place?"

Eddie shakes his head. "Can't. My mom will call there."

"Okay. Uh. I'll buy you McDonalds?"

Eddie looks like he wants to decline, then closes his mouth. "Sure. Okay."

After they eat, they let their feet carry them wherever they feel like going. It's getting late, now, the sun out of sight though still casting a gentle glow around them. Richie leads them away from downtown Derry, where Eddie seems to be headed, and instead down a side street, and then another. Eventually they begin to pass warehouses with trucks lined outside, and then the place where the school buses go when they're not carting kids around. Soon they come upon the tiny, shitty beach that no one really goes to, on a dingey part of the lake that's too full of shit to boat on. Eddie doesnt seem to mind, following Richie and kicking his shoes off on the edge where the grass becomes sand. He peers around, before nodding and letting his foot sink into it.

"The fuck are you looking for?" Richie asks teasingly, following after him with his own feet bare. 

"Could be glass," Eddie explains. "People leave bottles and shit all the time."

"Can you chill out for two seconds? Just once?"

"No."

They wander down the shore line, as short as it is, before Eddie decides he wants his feet in the water. Richie doesn't remind him of the fact that normally, he'd be worried about bacteria, because he loves rebellious Eddie. He wants to know more about the Eddie that jumps off of roofs and walks around in gross lakes with his bare feet. They roll their pants up to their knees and do just that, mostly just standing around and kicking their legs gently once in a while to watch the ripples widen until they disappeared.

"Sometimes I don't even wanna go home," Eddie murmurs. Richie can only half see him, now, the sky gone dim and casting his skin in blue. "Y'know?"

"Yeah," Richie nods, looking at him because it's all he ever wants to do. "I wanna move to Chicago."

Eddie meets his eyes. "Chicago? Why?"

"I don't know," Richie admits. "We went like, two years ago. And I just really liked it. And I wanna live in the city, where stuff is always happening. Nothing ever happens, here."

"Yeah." Eddie is quiet for a moment. "Chicago's cool."

Richie smiles, nodding once. "Yeah. Would...would you wanna go?"

Eddie smiles, too. "Sure. Would be fun. We could ride on those elevated trains. I heard the aquarium there kicks ass."

"It does," Richie confirms, his heart fluttering at the idea of holding Eddie's hand while they look at tropical fish. "That would be fun."

Richie's not sure what being in love feels like, but he thinks it might be similar to wanting nothing more than to walk around in an aquarium with someone and figure out which kind of fish is their favorite.

* * *

Richie doesn't see Eddie outside of school for the rest of the month or so that's left before summer. Sonia flipped her shit when Eddie returned home after sneaking out - she'd been in the middle of filing a missing kid report with the police, of course. Eddie's been in school, but he hasn't left his house otherwise, even missing some school days here and there with doctor's notes sent to the teachers. He seems weird, too. He doesn't seem that interested in hanging out with Richie or the other Losers between classes or during lunch; he's just sort of there, existing in the background but not really participating. It worries Richie, though he can't explain exactly what he's worried is happening. Sonia doesn't hurt him, not in the typical way you'd expect. There's no bruises, anything like that. But Eddie seems almost like a kicked puppy, his eyes wider and his shoulders hunched over. He doesn't talk much, doesn't really smile or laugh. And he never leaves his house, not even when Richie goes over and texts him to climb out the window. He either gets a resolute no, or no response at all.

On the last day of school, Richie is walking to his bus after throwing away all of his old papers and folders when Eddie chases him down, breathless as he comes to a jogging halt before him.

"Hey. Can I talk to you?"

"Uh, sure," Richie says, blinking at him.

"Okay. I think we should break up."

Richie stares, his lips parted. "Uh."

"You didn't do anything," Eddie promises, and he's speaking fast, so fast, like he's trying to vomit a speech he's prepared so it's over as quick as possible. "But I just don't really wanna date anyone right now. And yeah. We should break up."

The urge to throw up almost overtakes Richie's ability to speak. "O-okay," he croaks, though he can't fathom why. It's not okay. It's not fucking okay, he doesn't want this. Does Eddie want this? _Is your mom making you dump me?_ he wants to ask. _Did I talk too much? Am I annoying? Do you think I'm annoying? Do you hate me?_

"Have a good summer," he says instead, and Eddie nods, his eyes round, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"You, too," he says, and Richie walks the rest of the way to his bus. 

He doesn't remember the ride home, sitting alone and bouncing along on the shitty dirt roads, only arriving at his doorstep with an empty bookbag hanging off of his back.


End file.
